


Ephemeris

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Series: Undercities: Taekai Vampire AU [2]
Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, Blood Donation as Prostitution, Blood Drinking, Blood Drunk, Blood Kink, Bloodlust, Bloodplay, Consensual Blood Drinking, Consensual Relationship Between Blood Donors + Vampires, F/M, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Multi, Oh My God So Much Blood, Other, Threesome - F/M/M, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6631309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin's been desperate to see Taemin again, but increasing violence in the city might separate them for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ephemeris

—

Jongin knows it's Taemin underneath the hood before he even turns his head to get a good look at him. He can smell it on him—the tempered lust simmering just below his skin, and the soft, smoky smell of a fresh feed on his breath. Jongin recognizes the smell instantly. It's Moonkyu's blood on Taemin's lips. His mouth waters at the sharp deja vu that hits him: drunk and sitting on Moonkyu's floor, his legs splayed out underneath him. Taemin's fingertips tracing patterns on his scalp, getting dizzier with each stroke of Taemin's thumb and each slow pull of blood past his fangs. He's only had it once and still, the Pavlovian response is undeniable—he's thirsty, now, desperately. Ready.

Wonshik glances over from the other end of the bar and smiles when he sees the hooded figure slipping onto the empty bar stool next to Jongin. Taemin's hiding in those robes because this isn't his part of town, and he's got enough of a reputation these days that it could be very dangerous for everyone if he does get caught down here. Everyone's on edge. The infant problem's getting worse, not better, and no one's above suspicion.

Taemin thrusts a hand out from the sleeve of his robes and points two fingers in Wonshik's direction. The rings on his fingers gleam softly in the low light. Wonshik comes back with two bags of Synth and waves off Jongin's attempts to pay for them. 

"What are you doing here?" Jongin whispers when he can be sure that no one is paying attention to them. Wonshik's establishment attracts more than a few seedy types, but it's still unnerving to have Taemin sitting so close to him when they're firmly in Joonmyun's territory. He's not even skirting the border. He is in full defiance of the unspoken treaty between families, which means that anything that happens to him now is entirely his own responsibility. He's risking a lot to be here right now. All to see Jongin.

"Haven't seen you in a few days," Taemin says, punching a hole into the Synth pouch with a practiced hand. The hood slips for a moment, enough for a glimpse of the shock of silvery hair tucked behind his ears before he tugs it back into place. "I was worried you'd forgotten about me."

There's no way Jongin could ever forget. He could go a thousand lifetimes without ever seeing Taemin again and still be able to recall the memories vividly: Taemin's mouth, Taemin's body, Taemin's cock. He'd spent three nights in Taemin's bed, unable to leave him each time he tried. He'd sooner forget his own name than those seventy-two hours.

"You told me not to come back to the club," Jongin murmurs. There's also the small matter of Joonmyun, who's been keeping Jongin on a short leash since he'd woken up and promptly disappeared for three days. Joonmyun had nearly gone on a city-wide hunt for him and still isn't buying Jongin's assurances that he was safe, lying low at Wonshik's place for a few days. He'd never accept the truth, not now. Not while there's a rogue clan of infants still terrorizing the city. Jongin knows he should feel a greater sense of responsibility to his family and his Maker, especially as the sole remaining direct heir, but—Taemin's irresistible.

Joonmyun's not being unreasonable, though. Given the current climate of the city and the tense detente between humans and vampires, he's got every reason to worry about his last remaining direct heir. It's completely understandable to Jongin that Joonmyun wants to keep a close eye on him. It doesn't mean he's not going to try and have it both ways, but he'll try and do it in a way that avoids the unnecessary stress for Joonmyun. Jongin can handle himself. 

Taemin smiles to himself. Jongin can't see his face but he can hear it in his voice, the easy joy slipping into the spaces between his words. "I did. But you know where I live now, Jongin. It hasn't been that long."

"Eight days," Jongin says automatically, not even bothering to hide the fact that he's been counting them on his fingers since the moment he left Taemin's place.

Taemin notices. He continues, a delighted smile splitting his face in two: "Wonshik told me Joonmyun's trying to impose a curfew on you. Is it a problem that I'm here?"

"No," Jongin says. "It's just, after Jinho, he's—well, he's got a legacy to protect. And I'm a big part of that."

"I understand. I just wanted to make sure your shackles weren't too tight." 

His voice purrs over the word _shackles_ and a thrilling shiver lights up Jongin's spine, reminding him of Taemin's grip around his wrists like iron, holding him down on the bed and—

"Can I borrow you for the night?" His fingers wander under the bar and up Jongin's inseam, pausing just before he reaches the zipper, then falling away.

God, when he says and does things like that—Jongin wants to defect from Joonmyun's family and never leave the Undercity again if it would mean more time with Taemin. He looks up and catches Wonshik's eye. He's been watching them closely this whole time. Wonshik would lie for him again if he asked.

He licks his lips. He can't stay away for three nights again, but one night won't hurt. "Where are we going?"

—

Moonkyu's awake this time and waiting for them with the door wide open even before Taemin has the chance to knock. There's a massive white bandage taped to his neck, clearly from Taemin's earlier feeding. Trailing up the steps behind Taemin, eyes trained on his slim calf muscles wrapped in impossibly-tight black denim, it occurs to Jongin that Taemin must have planned this evening. He came straight from Moonkyu's apartment to Wonshik's, looking for Jongin, already knowing the outcome if he found him.

"Glad to see that he's not dead so you can stop worrying," Moonkyu says, beaming at Jongin over Taemin's shoulder. If Taemin were capable of blushing then he'd be doing it, but instead he shoves Moonkyu into the door with a rough hand and moves past him, grumbling under his breath about needing a new human to hang out with.

Jongin's charmed. This is the first time he's ever seen Taemin lose his cool composure and he can't let it rest. "You thought I was dead?" he asks, slapping at Taemin's wrist. Taemin rolls his eyes but shows impressive restraint by not taking the bait.

"Technically, you _are_ dead," Moonkyu says, ushering them to the messy living room, still strewn thick with the detritus of academia. "But he thought something really terrible had happened to you when you didn't show up at the club again looking for him—"

"I did not," Taemin says, and retaliates by pushing a textbook off Moonkyu's desk with a defiant flick of his wrist. Moonkyu laughs, clearly delighted to have the upper hand in this particular exchange. He doesn't even seem to mind that Taemin's petulance sent a stack of notes scattering everywhere across the floor.

"Joonmyun was concerned when I didn't come back—oh." Jongin realizes too late that he might be revealing a little too much. Moonkyu's smirk deepens into a full-blown, cockeyed grin. He's got one of those imperfectly handsome lopsided smiles where his teeth are just slightly too big for his lips to contain. It shouldn't be as nice as it is. 

"Listen," Taemin says, aiming for casual and failing miserably, "I only came looking for you because Moonkyu had some questions about last century."

"Why does that have anything to do with me?"

"You were there, weren't you?" It's a flimsy excuse and everyone in the room knows it. Taemin flashes his gleaming white smile up at Jongin, gesturing for him to take a seat. "Your memory has to be better than mine."

"A goldfish has a better memory than you, Taemin," Moonkyu says, turning to rummage in his desk drawer for something. A dictaphone, something Jongin hasn't seen in years and years. Everything's gone digital for humans now, but apparently Moonkyu's a traditionalist, or at the very least some kind of hipster academia snob. He sets it on the table in front of him and clicks the record button.

"There's a loophole," he explains, settling back against the arm of the couch. "We can't capture your image on film, obviously, but tape still works for sound."

"Really?"

Moonkyu points at a nearby shelf lined with tiny cassette tapes, all painstakingly labeled. "The bulk of my research is on those tapes. They're all interviews with my subjects."

Jongin stares at the neat, blocky row of tapes and their uniform white labels, all written in the same black permanent marker. Moonkyu's been a prolific researcher. There are so many names, ones Jongin recognizes, and some that he's never come across before in his very long afterlife. There's an entire shelf that appears to be devoted entirely to Taemin. Jongin considers this massive collection of vampiric folklore and history and longs to get his hands on them some day.

"So," Moonkyu says, drawing Jongin's attention back to the matter in front of them. "Taemin was telling me about the 21st century radiation flu epidemic."

The RAFLU-2N virus had devastated the vampire population back in the 21st century, cutting it by at least half, although Jongin believes it could have been higher than that. It was a mosquito-borne illness that caused minor discomfort to humans for a couple of days, a week, tops, but the effect on vampires was immediate and brutal. Jongin still remembers the sick feeling that came with the reports that rolled in twice daily: the death toll ticking steadily upward. They lost centuries of history in a matter of months, plunging them into what Moonkyu cuts in and calls _the Dark Age of vampires_ , which is funny to Jongin, because every age so far has been dark. 

Before the outbreak, Jongin had never seen vampires succumb to anything that wasn't immediate and violent: a stake in the heart, or ripped limb from limb by another vampire. Watching someone die from the RAFLU-2N was shocking to Jongin who had seen plagues kill off scores of humans, but this was the first time he'd seen it cross over: vampires with disintegrating teeth and rotting flesh—they starved to death, desiccated, until they drew a final breath and a single fingertip would reduce the corpse to ash. The antibodies that remained in the human blood supply months after infection meant that the population at large was unreliable and survivors had to scrounge for food elsewhere. Blood banks were burglarized for old stock, animals snatched from farms and backyards. For a while, chaos descended.

This was the era where Synth took center stage and became a necessity for survival. It was possible to go decades without food, but with no guarantee that the human blood supply would ever be clean again… families learned to make do with the syrupy, bland substitute. 

It was a poor substitute. After years of drinking live blood, Synth tastes wrong. It's never been part of a heartbeat, it's never passed through a human's veins. Taemin had been right, before: it's not just nourishment, it's the _life_ that fortifies them. Synth is enough to ease the burning and mitigate the cravings, somewhat, but Taemin's re-ignited the bloodlust in him. And maybe he's onto something with this new arrangement. Instead of compelling a pedestrian into a state of complacency before drinking _just_ until the heartbeat slows (and no more, through strict decrees handed down from Joonmyun), it's a mutually beneficial relationship between vampire and human, predator and prey. He hasn't asked Taemin if there's any compensation for Moonkyu or for the humans down at the club, and he hasn't seen any money change hands, although he imagines there must be something in place to keep them happy and willing to come back. What else could they be getting out of the deal?

Moonkyu sits through Jongin's account, nodding in all the appropriate places. Taemin interjects a few times but he's more interested in pacing the apartment, running his hands along the edges of the furniture. He's restless, Jongin notes, idly wondering what he's so anxious about.

"I'm fascinated by the politics involved in blood consumption," Moonkyu says, just as the tape side skitters to its end and stops recording. 

"Politics?" Jongin asks, half-distracted by the word _blood_. He's trying not to have a one-track mind but it's proving increasingly difficult in Moonkyu's presence. Every time he swallows Jongin finds his eyes drawn to the jump of his Adam's apple. It's taking a concerted effort on his part to keep his fangs sheathed, but he doesn't want to make a scene. 

"I'd be interested to hear what your experiences are," Moonkyu says, fumbling with the tape now. "Coming from a privileged, Old World Order family and all. You've seen things I can only imagine."

Jongin considers what to say, his hand on his throat. That Synth had been hours ago, or at least it feels like it. He's just spent the better part of the evening sitting across from a human—not just any human, but one he's comfortable around. But comfort doesn't override his nature. He's thirsty. There's no way Moonkyu's capable of donating so soon after Taemin. 

Taemin must notice the flash in his eyes. "I think that's enough for tonight."

Moonkyu pauses. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude. You didn't come here just for this. Would you like to—"

"I can't," Jongin says before Moonkyu can finish removing his bandage. "You can't."

"I can," he says. "Just a little. I definitely owe you for your time."

"Don't be stupid, he'll exsanguinate you. Raincheck. We've got somewhere to be, anyway," Taemin says, getting to his feet. He gathers his discarded robe from the arm of Moonkyu's couch and drapes it over his shoulders, not bothering to stick his arms through the sleeves. "Don't worry, Moonkyu. I'll take good care of him."

"Of that, I have no doubt." Moonkyu manages a sly wink, even as he's fumbling with the tiny stick-on label for the cassette tape's case. _SIDE A: KIM JONGIN_ , he writes in neat block letters, and then the date. "I'll save side B for the next time you come back," he says, putting the tape on the shelf next to Taemin's collection. "I've still got a lot of questions for you."

 

—

 

"We're really late," Taemin says. They're taking a shortcut through the Undercity, the vast network of underground tunnels connecting the four Quadrants of New Seoul. They were used back after the Third World War, Pre-Unification, on days when the rain was too acidic for human skin to tolerate without sustaining burns. They're considered abandoned by the human population, now, although the vampire residents of New Seoul have adopted it as an easy way to traverse the city from end to end without risking an encounter with a human.

"Late?"

"You'll see," Taemin says, tossing him the robes he'd been wearing earlier. "Put this on, Favored Son."

Jongin recognizes the alley by the smell of it. Copper and sweat. They're outside the club. There's an underground entrance that opens at the bottom of the stairs, right before the heavy curtains, and Taemin pushes Jongin through it, a casual arm around his waist to draw him close and rumble in his ear through the scratchy fabric of the robes.

"There's someone here I'd like you to meet," he says. They're waved past the front door by the bouncer and the crowd within parts to allow Taemin through. Here, Jongin is the nobody. With his face hidden by the hood, he's able to skim past the patrons in relative anonymity. It's a wonder to watch Taemin, though. Taemin's the undisputed prince of the underground, and Jongin can recognize it now. He _gleams_ , every inch of him, radiating the kind of easy magnanimity that makes him a born leader, even if he's considered the opposite. He's the resistance. The revolution. The next generation of vampires in New Seoul, if he can get this consensual-feeding movement off the ground.

Taemin ushers Jongin through the crowds of vampires swarming through the main room. It's more packed than Jongin remembers, everyone elbow to elbow, hard granite bodies colliding into each other to make room for the few humans scattered throughout. Jongin smells all of them, senses keen now that he knows he's going to be drinking live tonight. He's not grappling with the burning thirst of decades underground anymore, so he's perfectly in control. He's ready.

Back in the VIP area, Taemin holds the curtain aside and ushers Jongin through. It's a different room this time, larger than before. There's a row of heavy, wrought iron hangers mounted against the far wall with a silk dressing gown hanging off the third peg. Taemin takes Jongin's robes and hangs them up, too. 

The couch nestled against the back wall is a large, leather chaise lounge, and the girl sitting on it with her knees pulled together, hands folded in her lap—she's not Kibum, not even close. There's a cascade of long, dark brown hair flipped over one shoulder, nearly to her waist. She lights up when she sees Taemin come in.

"Soojung," Taemin says, extending his hand for her. She's on her feet in an instant, greeting him as an old friend. He hugs her and the warm delight on his face is plain as day. "You don't mind that I brought a friend with me, do you?"

"You never do, so he must be important," she says, turning her attention on Jongin. She doesn't quite smile, but regardless, it's not an unfriendly expression that greets him. "Hello."

"Jongin, this is Soojung."

She is so beautiful. Jongin's mesmerized by the cupid's bow of her lovely mouth and the tiny smattering of sun freckles across her nose, nearly invisible to the naked eye. He stares at her for a moment before he remembers that they're speaking to him. He fumbles with a _'hello'_ that sounds more like he's choking and settles on, "Nice to meet you," his voice suddenly gravel-rough and burning.

"Hi, Jongin." She smiles then, finally, and glances back over her shoulder at Taemin. "Are you starving him? Look at his face."

"Me? Why do you think I did anything?"

"You're late. Distracted again? Lost track of time at Moonkyu's?"

Jongin laughs. They've clearly been friends for a long time if she's this familiar with Taemin's patterns. Taemin doesn't even bother to deny it, that sharp grin of his too bright to hide. He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it aside.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting." He crowds into her space, his voice dipping low enough for his words to disappear into the murmur of the crowd outside the VIP area. He says something to her and she kisses him in reply, eyes closed and smiling.

"I'm used to it," she says when she steps back, hands at her throat to unbutton her dress. It falls away in stages, buttons slipping through the plackets one by one in a practiced rhythm until it slips past her hips and to her ankles. She steps out of it, kicking it aside, and stands in front of Taemin. The air is cool enough back here that her human skin breaks out in gooseflesh. Instantly, Jongin wants to put his mouth on her. Regardless, he lets Taemin steady him, holding him back with two fingertips curled in the palm of Jongin's hand. He doesn't know if he could be this obedient and restrained for Joonmyun in the face of what he knows is about to happen, but he wants to do better for Taemin. He wonders if this is what it feels like to be compelled. The dizzy, heady feeling. He'd almost believe Taemin was compelling him, except that it doesn't work on other vampires. This is his own free will. He'll wait for Taemin because he wants to.

Jongin can smell her—the antiseptic, floral scent of her soap and perfume, but there's a subtle layer of something more. The warm smell of skin and beneath that, the blood surging through her veins. There's something else there, too. He's too thirst-dumb to place it until Taemin settles her back on the couch and he realizes what's about to happen.

Taemin seems very concerned with choreographing everything _just so_. He won't let Jongin sit aside and watch this time, that much is for certain. He strips him with a businesslike precision and muscles him back against the arm of the couch, then arranges Soojung in between them, coaxing her to lean back against chest, her legs draped over Jongin's lap. She's focused on Taemin at the moment. Her eyes never leave his face. Her expression is one of trust, wide-open and expectant, her fingertips tracing his exquisite cheekbones, down to his full lips, rounding the point of his chin. He's not forcing her. She's not being compelled, she's just—here, adoring him, laughing at the jokes he's whispering in her ear, too quiet for Jongin to catch. 

It occurs to Jongin that he hasn’t seen a single compelled human in the place on either nights he’s been here. They're easy to spot a mile away with their glazed-over, dozy expressions, vacant and open, almost childlike. They agree to everything. They don't make jokes or tease, they don't swap stories, they don't even _speak_ unless they've been spoken to. In those moments, there's not much of their human element present. It's the kinder, gentler way to feed from a human—or, at least that's what Jongin's been told his whole life. It makes it easy on them so they're not frightened and struggle during the process. This was common practice for several reasons, not the least of which being that fear tastes terribly bitter. He'd thought that blood from a compelled human was as good as it got, but since he met Taemin he's completely revised his position on that, too.

Moonkyu was Jongin's first relaxed human. He'd never fed from a conscious human before and he's been craving the sweet difference ever since. Soojung's perfectly happy and calm, too, although the sex intertwined with the feeding probably helps with her state of mind. It occurs to Jongin that Taemin's stumbled on something—either purposely, through trial and error, or a happy accident borne from a specific fetish for humans, but regardless. This could change things for the community. Once the infant problem's dealt with, of course.

It seems Jongin and Soojung have a few things in common. Jongin can't tear his gaze from Taemin, either. Taemin's hair falls in his face when he bends forward, runs his thumb down her carotid in preparation, and closes his mouth over the notch of her throat just below the jaw. She clenches her fists tightly, her entire body going rigid, and for a moment Jongin thinks he's gotten it all wrong, that she's not doing this of her own volition, but then she moans softly and exhales Taemin's name. Taemin's free hand skims down the slope of her forearm and she reaches out, fingers searching for his, twining them. Her eyes open, settling on Jongin, and a smile curls into the corners of her mouth.

"How are you feeling?" Taemin whispers sweetly, kissing the spot where he'd just bitten.

"Good," she says, still burning a hole through Jongin with her stare. "Jongin?"

He jerks to attention. "Hm?"

"Your turn."

Taemin offers Jongin Soojung's wrist, their fingers still linked together. Jongin laughs when Taemin's fingertips tickle his damp, eager mouth, grasping for him, teasing the dip between his chin and his full lower lip. Feeding's never been a sensory experience like this before, and now he’s trying to figure out _why_ it can't always be like this. It's so much better for everyone involved.

Soojung moans louder this time when Jongin bites her. She tastes like sunshine and cold all at once, the same clean sweetness he'd tasted with Moonkyu. It's—the relief, he realizes, he's tasting the desire in her bloodstream.

He swallows once, half a mouthful, and feels her body start trembling underneath him. He worries if it's too much for her already, if sharing her means that she's losing too much blood at once for them to continue. But when he sits back, wiping his mouth, he sees the cause of it: Taemin's hand, between her legs now, two fingers pushing aside the crotch of her thin, lacy panties. 

It hits Jongin, the smell of blood and sex in the air, strong as anything. He's never had sex with a human, and certainly not while he was _feeding_ from that human, even though the only way anything sexual can happen between vampires has to happen shortly after feeding—it's the only time the lust is strong enough to perform. There's something utterly taboo about playing with your food like this, listening to the way her heartbeat is so loud in his ears, the soft whimpers accompanying her first orgasm, and the subsequent throb of blood to the rest of her body. Taemin soothes away the tension in her body with a long stroke of his palm up her hip.

"You can—you can bite me again," she whispers. Jongin doesn't realize it's directed at him until he glances up from Taemin's hand and catches her heavy-lidded stare still pinned on him. There's a fine sheen of perspiration on her forehead. Taemin's watching Jongin too, his chin nestled onto Soojung's shoulder, pupils blown wide, waiting for Jongin to make the next move.

"Can I?" Jongin rasps, needing it desperately, at war with himself. It takes every ounce of self-control he didn't know he had to keep his mouth off her neck, her breasts, the soft flesh of her inner thigh where her femoral artery hides.

"Not too much," Taemin cautions, wrapping his other arm around her ribcage to supervise Jongin again. Jongin nips at her pulse, barely a mouthful, and leans in to feed it to Taemin. Taemin smiles into the kiss, clearly surprised by Jongin's willingness to share when he's still so thirsty. They trade off like that, each taking a turn pulling sips from her, feeding it to each other. Taemin's got blood smeared all over his face and his laugh is a little manic, but as long as Soojung keeps patting his face and telling him to keep going, Jongin figures they're alright.

When Jongin feels the itch in the back of his throat subside he waves Taemin off and lets him take the last swallow for himself. Taemin's fingers speed up, smoothing in tight circles over Soojung's clit, finally offering her release. Soojung moans brokenly, the loudest she's been all night, slumping forward and into Jongin's chest for support as she shudders bodily and comes. Jongin holds her upright, letting her clutch at the fabric of his shirt until the tremors stop.

Taemin's still laughing after he's wiped his fingers on the couch, nuzzling at Soojung's sweaty skin and kissing it. "Thank you," he says, still out of breath. "That was fun."

She kisses him on the cheek, too drowsy to speak. She lets Jongin hold her hand and kiss her fingertips with quiet appreciation. He’s suddenly shy now that it's all over, nothing but the three of them breathing heavily over the sound of the music pumping through the club's speakers, Jongin and Taemin lavishing affection on Soojung in wordless gratitude. He doesn't know how he's going to face Joonmyun now that he's gone this far off the rails. He doesn't know what he's doing at all anymore.

And then, suddenly—a blood-curdling scream from outside the curtain, loud enough to be heard over the grinding industrial beats. A chorus of loud, heavily-male voices:

"Nobody move! Police!"

Taemin sits bolt upright, shirt hanging off his shoulder, blood still dripping off his chin and smeared down his neck. He's a little drunk and disoriented and his whole face crumples, trying to puzzle out what the fuck's going on.

Jongin's less drunk, although his head's still spinning. It's utter panic outside. Screaming, shattering glass, the crunch of tables splintering. Soojung's fully awake now with the adrenaline, holding herself with wide, white-ringed eyes. She's suddenly very naked in the middle of a terrible situation.

Taemin leaps to his feet. "There's a back entrance, Jongin, come on, you've got to get out of here—"

"We can't leave her," Jongin says, startled. Taemin looks back at Soojung, his eyes unfocused. He's _wasted_ , not thinking clearly. Whoever's conducting the raid outside clearly knew the best time to strike. They'd waited until the vampires had been feeding long enough to be incapacitated. Brilliant strategy, except now they're trapped down here, and Jongin keeps thinking that maybe saying goodbye to Joonmyun earlier tonight was the last time he'd ever see him—

Taemin tries to shake it off, deeply apologetic but still fighting the thick, cotton wool feeling in his brain that comes on strong after a good feed. Clarity, or something adjacent to it, struggles to return to his eyes. "Shit. Soojung, I'm—you have to come—um."

There's no time to go through the motions of getting Soojung dressed, so Jongin retrieves his robes from the peg and bundles her in them. Taemin pulls aside the curtain at the back wall and reveals a small door cut into the cinderblock wall, illuminated by a row of tiny white lights embedded at the frame.

"Come on," he says. “There’s a back way out, through the tunnels.”

"What about the others?" Jongin asks desperately. He hears the screams. He knows it's too late for them. Taemin hears them too, helplessly looking back over his shoulder at the curtain. Not long now until they're discovered. They're out of time.

"Jongin. You can't get caught in a raid. There's nothing we can do. _Come on._ "

 

—

 

It feels as though there's no end to the winding, underground passages that wrap around the block and beyond. Taemin seems to be taking turns at random, trying to throw any potential pursuers off their trail with a zigging, zagging, left-left-right-left route through the tunnels. Jongin pushes on, trying to keep up with Taemin's breakneck speed while dragging a barefoot Soojung along with him. She stopped crying a while back but she's still taking jagged, knifing breaths that echo harshly down here.

They emerge somewhere in a different Quadrant of the city through a storm grate and into a sleeping neighborhood of high-rise apartment complexes, looming ominously overhead. Jongin doesn't frighten easily—he's a creature of the night, after all—but he has this prickling sensation on the back of his neck, like they're being watched, and he can't shake the uneasy feeling no matter how fiercely he tells himself they're alone. The streetlights out here seem painfully bright and they're a conspicuous trio, climbing out from below street level. They could be mistaken for infants and captured, or worse. It's not safe here, not now.

Soojung's shivering violently in the cold night air, even under the robes. Her dress, her coat, her shoes, everything she'd been wearing at the start of the evening is still back at the club. Jongin touches the fang marks on her exposed wrist, already healing. She turns her tear-stained face at him and smiles, somehow.

"Does that hurt?" he asks her. She shakes her head. He wants to pull her close to keep her warm, but he has no body heat to speak of. Proximity to him will just make things worse for her.

"We've got to get her home," Taemin says, completely sober now. 

"Like this? Taemin, she's half-naked and covered in bites. _Someone's_ going to notice her. And if the news of this raid reaches the humans and they know where she's been and what she's been doing—she's going to be in a lot of trouble."

Taemin nods in agreement and contemplates this for a moment before he lands on the answer. "We've got to take her through the tunnels. No one will bother us there."

"The tunnels don't go to my part of the city," Soojung says.

Taemin rubs his lower lip with his thumb, anxious, eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of trouble. He's hesitant to speak, but it's the only option and Jongin knows it, too: "Then you'll come home with me."

 

Upon arrival, Taemin draws a very hot bath for Soojung and insists on helping her in. He sits with his arms draped over the edge of the heavy copper bathtub, shampooing the blood and sweat out of her hair with a tenderness Jongin finds surprising, and yet at the same time, not surprising at all. He's learning that Taemin is an exercise in contradictions. He's as bloodthirsty as the rest of them, but there's more nuance to it. The level of self-control he maintains around humans makes it easy to forget that he relies on them for sustenance. The way he acts sometimes, it's almost as though he doesn't need to drink to live. Even now, he doesn't have the same dark-eyed look as he had back at the club, and she's wearing even less now. He's businesslike but gentle, coaxing her from the cooling water and wrapping her in a towel to dry her off.

"You should sleep here tonight," he tells her, rubbing ointment into the worst of her wounds. "I have no idea what's going on out there. You can stay as long as you need."

"Thank you," she says, catching at his wrist. "You're not leaving, are you? You'll stay here? And Jongin, too?"

His expression changes. "Are you frightened? You're safe here, Soojung. We won't let anything—"

"I know, I just." Her eyes well up with tears in the next moment. "They're dead, aren't they? I never thought—and _you_ —"

"I don't know," Taemin says, cutting her off before she starts to spiral. "We were always operating outside the law. I'm sure they were arrested for fraternization—"

"Not you, though," she says softly, meaning _vampires_. "Not with what's been happening in the news lately." 

The silence hangs heavy between them. Jongin thinks Taemin's coming up with a response until he sees the worry ease out of her eyes and realizes he's compelling her.

"Sleep," Taemin says, petting her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. "You've had a very long day."

"I have," she agrees, suddenly amiable and sweet. Taemin helps her into his bed and pulls the sheet over her bare body. Jongin waits at the room's threshold, watching Taemin stroke her hair until her eyelids sink shut. He looks troubled when he turns back to Jongin, clearly uncomfortable with what he's just done.

"I'll have to find some new clothes for her," Taemin says. "In the morning." He catches Jongin staring at him and looks away, lips pursed. "Don't look at me like that. I did what I had to do."

 

"I have to go home," Jongin says as soon as the door to Taemin's bedroom clacks shut. "There's no way Joonmyun hasn't heard what happened, and he's going to be worried if he can't find me. If the world's coming to an end, he's going to want me nearby."

"The world isn't ending," Taemin says with a short laugh, oddly confident despite this evening's events. "Humans do this, every now and then. They try to cut us off and bring us to the light. Let them, if it makes them feel like they're doing something to protect themselves."

"They—they were killing people, Taemin, you heard them." He didn't say it earlier in front of Soojung because he didn't want to frighten her, but those screams—they're the same ones that have been ringing in his ears since he killed Jinho. The hysterical, painful sound of a vampire shrieking out of existence.

Taemin smiles an odd, sad sort of smile. "I know. It's not my first raid, Jongin. I know it won't be the last, either." He spreads his hands. "We all take risks. Look at you, Favored Son, caught on the wrong side of the city."

It's not meant to be rude. Taemin apologizes anyway, putting his hand on Jongin's chest. He asks for forgiveness with a kiss, the dampness of his mouth sticking their lips together for a brief moment.

"Thank you," he says. "I wasn't myself earlier. I didn't—she could have been seriously hurt." She's covered in bite marks and her feet are ripped up from walking barefoot in the street, but Jongin knows Taemin means killed and just doesn't want to say it out loud. "Do you think you can get home safely?"

Before Jongin can answer, there's a knock at the door that sends his fight-or-flight response into overdrive. Paranoia from tonight's raid is still at an all-time high for Jongin. He actually _hisses_ before he can stop himself, poised to attack whoever's coming through the door.

Whoever it is, they're calling through the heavy wooden door, pounding with both fists at once. A woman's voice calls out: "Taemin? Taemin, it's me."

Taemin pets the nape of Jongin's neck as he passes by. "Stand down," he says, not bothering to conceal his delight at Jongin's reaction. "It's just Seulgi. Hey, keep it down, Soojung's sleeping in the other room."

A vampire acquaintance for a change, Jongin notices, taking stock of her ethereal beauty as she swishes past, already making a beeline for the bedroom. Taemin blocks her with his body, holding her in place by her shoulders.

"Let her sleep," he says, more firmly this time.

"Is she alright?"

"Yes."

"Moonkyu?"

"Wasn't with me."

"WQ Police were on the scene when I arrived," she says. "But I don't think they saw me."

"You know better than to go looking for trouble at a raid site," Taemin admonishes. "What were you thinking?"

"I was looking for _you_! When the news came out, Jinki sent me out to check on you. I knew there were only a few places you could possibly be, and at that hour, you're usually—" For the first time since she arrived she seems to notice Jongin standing there. She smiles and glances between Taemin and Jongin, trying to contain her curiosity. "Oh. I'm. I didn't realize—"

"It's okay. Jongin, this is Seulgi."

Jongin nods a brief hello and then it hits him out of nowhere, what she was saying before: she means Lee Jinki, the Patriarch of West Quadrant. It's strange. Even in times like this, to have a Patriarch accounting for every member of his family mere hours after an incident seems overprotective. Unless—

Taemin's his heir.

Taemin's the Favored Son of West Quadrant.

Seulgi, too, seems to be having a revelation of her own. She recognizes Jongin and takes a step back, astonished. Taemin either doesn't notice or is choosing to ignore their faces in favor of pushing Seulgi for more information on the police presence at the club.

"So WQ Police conducted the raid?"

Seulgi shakes her head. "Raid? They were just arriving when I did, they didn't do this. Taemin, it was a slaughter. Humans, vampires—everyone."

Jongin recalls the shouting vividly. They'd identified themselves as police. "From another Quadrant?"

"I didn't see."

"We're going to have to move the club to a new location," Taemin says. "Once we figured out how it was discovered. If we don't, it'll just happen again, they'll follow us everywhere."

Seulgi's back to watching Jongin out of the corner of her eye, regarding him with guarded suspicion. "You can't be serious. It's over, Taemin. This is something you need to give up."

"I'm not caving," Taemin says. "It was working. It was safe. We'll change security protocol. Try again."

"Humans don't know the difference between what you want to do and what they think we do, and they don't care," Seulgi tells him. 

"Some do," he returns. "Soojung? Moonkyu?"

"Two," she says. "You've listed two humans out of billions. And how could you bring Soojung back to this place? Humans aren't supposed to be here."

"She's protected here."

"Jinki—"

"Jinki trusts me," Taemin says. "Tell him I'm fine. I'll be by to see him tomorrow."

Seulgi hesitates. "Taemin."

"I promise, I won't forget. I'll be safe." He says it casually, giving her all of these reassurances as though they will be easy promises to keep. 

Jongin feels stupid for not connecting the dots earlier. Taemin's got all the hallmarks of being an indulged heir, but it appears he has no responsibilities to anyone but himself, which is surprising when by contrast, Joonmyun expects so much from Jongin. Still. Taemin is clearly royalty. Now that Jongin knows it, he wants to kick himself for not realizing it sooner. It's impossible to overlook Taemin's fine, delicate bone structure, the way he carries himself. Refined, accomplished—when he wants to let people see that side of himself. Rebellion suits him too, though, and Jongin knows he's just along for the ride for now. Once Taemin assumes his rightful place, they won't be able to see each other anymore.

Stranger still—the fact that Taemin doesn't live in the Lee estate with his Maker. So it seems Taemin's got secrets of his own, a story that he hasn't told Jongin, yet.

 

—

 

Jongin decides to take a shortcut through Taemin's place in West Quadrant on his way down to South Quadrant. He's chasing the dawn, trying to beat the sunrise. The myths about vampires that pervade human folklore all say that vampires turn into dust in direct sunlight. This isn't exactly without merit, but it's not quite accurate, either. They burn. Jongin's sustained one himself, back during a summer excursion to Iceland in his idiot adolescence. The skin sizzles and peels right down to the bone and then rots away, revealing parts of the human they once were. It heals, eventually. He's still got the patch of slick, white skin on the round of his shoulder to prove it.

He's puzzling it out as he travels. If the police hadn't conducted a raid, then someone else is actively working against the underground consensual-feed movement. Given the vitriol and panic directed towards them in the human newspapers, he doesn't think they can rule out another law enforcement agency just yet. He wanted to ask Taemin a thousand questions about the club (and maybe another thousand about Lee Jinki), but his obligation to Joonmyun's sanity prevailed this time, and so he'd left.

As expected, Joonmyun's waiting for him when he gets home. He doesn't seem to smell the human on Jongin, but he does stop Jongin from retiring to his windowless room to sleep off tonight's events until he's been thoroughly grilled on his whereabouts.

"I heard reports of violence in North Quadrant. You weren't anywhere near that part of the city, were you?" He hides his protectiveness with overt frustration, but it's an act and Jongin knows it, knows that Joonmyun is sentimental to the point of weakness when it comes to him.

"I was with Wonshik."

"I hope so." Joonmyun pins him with a narrow-eyed stare. It softens after a moment and he caresses Jongin's cheek with an affectionate palm. "There's still so much work to be done. I need you safe, and I need you around for a long time."

 

—


End file.
